12:41
by sandiwandi
Summary: Draco tells Hermione what her problem is. Sequel to Just In Case


**Title:** 12:41  
**Author:** **sandiwandi**  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** Foul language, other than that, nada. Also, this might come as a shock, but I'm not British. omg hwa? Yes. Hard to believe, isn't it?  
**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine.  
**Author Notes/Beta Credits:** Shit, man, where do I begin? Loads of people to thank. FIRST off! To **eucalyptus**, because she's been with me every step of the way, encouraging me non-stop and giving me justified crit. I'm so blessed to have her as my beta because she's just so generous with her time and self. I couldn't have it any better. Thanks Tara! Also, thanks to **bk11** for the 15minute writing sprees, and for having the patience to answer my questions. To **derryere**, for helping me with the visuals and for entertaining me with squids. Last but never the least, to all my friends who told me that my first 920 words aren't at all crap and that I should BREATHE. Haha, thanks guys. I love my f-list. ( I feel like I won a friggin' Oscar or something.)  
**Summary:** Draco tells Hermione what her problem is.  
This is a sequel to **Just In Case**.

**---**

**8:30 a.m.**

Cleaning out her office desk had always been a favorite pastime of Hermione Granger's. She was used to always being transferred to a new place, where the couch was always a bit softer and the rug just a bit more expensive. Plus, she got her own assistant. Yes. Promotions always meant better things. But now that she was cleaning out her desk yet again, she found that doing so this time was torturous, not exciting as it is usually was, because there wasn't a new office waiting for her. The complete opposite, actually.

She was fired. Done with. Kicked out. Her career as a hard-ass lawyer was finally going down the drain. And at twenty seven years old, that was not good. Not good at all.

The sun was trying to shine today, but the clouds would have none of it. She took a moment and looked through her huge office window (she was going to miss this). Cars were honking (move out've the fuckin' way!), a bookstore she'd been eyeing for a while had opened for the day, and a few blocks ahead she could see kids playing hopscotch and their mothers gossiping. Life sure didn't wait for anyone.

It started out simple enough. She was an up and coming lawyer, the best to come in a long while. One partner of the firm, Mr. Hudgens, Jr., thought it was good opportunity for her to meet one of their top clients. So the firm gave her Mr. Shorens, a very important business tycoon in the wizarding world. He was sued for swindling a charitable orphanage dealing with Post-War children, the prosecution stating that while he was chairman of the non-profit organization, only sixty-five percent of the total money given to them went to the orphanage's bank account. Hermione knew of Mr. Shorens' reputation, his under-the-table dealings, and his shady transactions. But she gave him the benefit of a doubt, denying any malicious thoughts that entered her head. However, one comment changed everything. "Miss Granger, let's get this over and done with. No one actually gives a damn about them. They're nothing but publicity-hungry indigents who want to get more money then what they're worth. I'm doing them a favor! Sixty-five percent is better than nothing! Now, what do you say we celebrate tonight?" And at that moment, her actions and words were not accounted for.

Next thing she knew, there was a meeting, she had hit the boss, and she was escorted out the room. Hermione knew that one of the major reasons she was fired (aside from blowing up) was because she was Muggle-born. There had been minor complaints of old wizarding families, saying that they'd prefer if Hermione wasn't the one handling their case. Because if it was any other top lawyer who did what she did BUT was a Pure-blood, the worst she was going to get was probably a demotion and a windowless office on the seventh floor. And shit, that hurt.

Tough luck.

"Damn stapler." She went back to what she was doing and looked under the table, her hair covering a huge portion of her face. No luck. "This is definitely not my day."

"Hey, Hermione, can I have your chair? I figure you won't need it anymore, since you're leaving and all."

Jim Carver, a short, bespectacled and rather simple man (and a fellow - or rather ex co-employee) was helping her move out of the office. Tact and sensitivity really weren't his strong suit. Hermione winced. She loved her work and to have it taken away from her was agonizing.

"Okay, but only you can have it, ever. I wouldn't want just anyone's bum sitting pretty on MY chair. And believe it or not, you're one of the few people who do deserve to sit there. Promise me Jim, that you won't be like them. Don't ever compromise. Promise me that."

"I don't know, Hermione. If the pay's good, how can I resist? It's not like- hey I'm kidding! I'm kidding. Man. Okay, I promise. It's not like I'm going to stay here anyway. I've always wanted to venture into the fishing business, y'know? Save enough money, buy me a boat and just sail away."

"I wish I was more like you, Jim."

"No, you don't. You've got something in you that I _know_ wouldn't be content with fishing. You're made for great things, Hermione. Great things. Don't let this get you down."

And suddenly a mass of brown hair got into his mouth.

"Hermi- Hermione, you're choking me."

After a few more seconds, she broke away.

"Sorry. Just got a bit emotional for a moment there."

She wiped her nose with some tissue. She always had tissues, just in case a client broke down because of a cheating husband or a kidnapped dog.

"S'kay. I'm used to it. The ladies can't resist me."

"Of course. Anyway, let's just get back to looking for that damned stapler."

A sigh escaped from Jim's mouth as he reluctantly drew the stapler from behind his back.

"Figured you wouldn't go looking for it because it's just a stapler. But then again, you _are_ Hermione Granger. I guess I'll have to settle for your chair."

"You better thank the gods for me not wanting to choke you righ-"

"You actually did."

"…I love this stapler."

"I noticed."

"It's the only one that's stuck with me through everything."

"Your best friend, perhaps?"

"Oh, shut up. Anyway, I guess I'm done here. Thank you so much, Jim. If you need anything at all, especially if you want to grill this firm's ass, you know where to find me. C'mere."

She opened her arms and hugged Jim Carver one last time, then walked out of her former office carrying her box with as much grace as she could muster. And with all eyes on her, it was quite a feat.

Into the elevator, out of the building, and then she turned and cast a lingering look on the firm that gave and at the same time took away from her so much.

There were life lessons to be learned here. And Hermione sure as hell wouldn't be sitting around letting them pass her by.

Hermione Granger had left the building, and she was ready to start fresh.

**---**

**10:37 a.m.**

Hermione usually spent her Saturday morning at the public park feeding breadcrumbs to the ducks. It was calming for her, watching the gray and blue feathered birds bobbing their heads into the water. If the ducks didn't have to worry about their food, why should she? Well, for one, she wasn't a duck. And two, ducks didn't have to worry about paying the rent, the electricity and the water bills. Ron had laughed at this weird hobby of hers, but she didn't care. If hanging on to her sanity meant feeding small-bodied, short -necked, and awkward walking waterfowls, then so be it.

This day was no different, perhaps slightly more windy and gloomy than usual. Two hours after she had left the firm, she went to the park to do what she'd always done. With her box beside her, she started to spread breadcrumbs onto the pond.

"Any second now…"

One by one the ducks gathered around the breadcrumbed portion and began to quack, like they always had, and to dabble their beaks towards the food presented to them.

Her leg vibrated and for a second, she was back to a time where green light flashed everywhere. Her heartbeat raced until she realized that it was only her cell phone. She let out a relieved laugh.

"Yes?"

"Where are you?"

"Hello to you too, Harry. Well…"

"You're at the park again, aren't you?"

"So?"

"You need to get out more often, Hermione."

"And the point of your call is to tell me to get out more often? Wow. Thanks, Harry."

"Well, no. But anyway, we were wonder-"

A voice from Harry's end of the line interrupted their conversation.

"She's feeding those birds again, isn't she, Harry?"

"Tell Ron to shut up, Harry."

"Hermione says you should shut up."

"What? Give me that- Hermione. Listen to me. You have got to stop-"

"Ron! Honestly. Nothing's wrong with me! And if the main reason for the both of you calling is to tell me to STOP FEEDING DUCKS then…argh!"

And with that, she snapped her phone shut.

_Deep breaths, Hermione. Deep breaths._ She was massaging her temples when a voice broke her meditation.

"You sure are one wild girl, Granger."

Damn it. It was Malfoy. No need to look up to know who it was. She'd know that greasy tone anywhere.

"What… are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"Oh, you know…just strolling around, watching birds fly and fish swim. I like to _relax_. I've noticed, Granger, it seems as if parks are always our meeting places."

"Go get another bench to sit on. This is mine. And we _don't_ have a meeting place."

"Do you have your name on it, Granger?"

Reverting to old ways was a bit of a comfort for Hermione. Verbally sparring with Malfoy meant that not all things had changed, and if that was the only consolation, she was ready to take all of it.

"Oh, wow," she said. "Nice comeback, really."

"Anytime, Granger. Now tell me, what's up with the breadcrumbs?"

This was exactly why Hermione didn't want any company for her peculiar hobby. Too many questions. Too many weird looks. And this was no exception.

"I like to feed birds."

"What was that?"

"I _said_, 'I like to feed birds'. Okay, end of discussion."

"Ooh, touchy."

"Oh, go play with knives and trip over them, Malfoy. Please. Do it for the good of mankind."

"And why so bitchy?"

"Why so annoying?"

"Touche. You know, you're not so different when you're sober."

He made a motion to sit beside her. She straightened and her hand instantly went to cover the other side of the bench.

"Who told you that you could sit here?"

"Granger. Seriously. This isn't third year."

"_Fine_. But enough with the questions. And I wasn't drunk!"

"Whatever you say."

And so they sat in silence with a box between them, Hermione feeding the birds and Malfoy watching her.

"Stop looking at me."

"Can't a guy admire your unequaled beauty?"

"No."

He sighed in defeat.

"So you cleaned out your office today, huh?"

"Yeah. But I don't want to talk about it. No, scratch that. I don't want to talk about it with _you_."

"You owe me lunch."

"What? No, I don't. I definitely don't. "

"Yes, you definitely do. You said so two nights ago - hey that rhymed – anyway, yes, you owe me lunch."

He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"First of all, stop waggling your eyebrows. It's sickening. Second of all, I said I'd think about it. I don't recall ever saying I _will_."

"So, have you thought about it?"

"What do you want from me, Malfoy? Tell me. What the hell do you want from me?"

"Jesus, Granger. Nothing. I want nothing from you, okay? Maybe if you'd think about it you'd see that I'm just trying to be a better person."

"I don't need you to be a better person. You could be the freakin' next Ghandi for all I care."

If at that moment she'd stopped spreading breadcrumbs to look at him, she would have seen something different. His eyes no longer had that vengeful gleam in them. It was now dissatisfaction and a bit of sadness. And if she _had_ seen them, maybe she would have changed her mind. But she didn't stop with the breadcrumbs, and she didn't look up. Too bad.

"I'm not doing this for anyone but myself, Granger."

"Well, you've always been selfish."

"Can you just - for one second - cut the bitchiness?"

She froze. Oh, he did _not_ just go there.

"Wait a minute. You're the one who pushed your way into talking to me when I made it so terribly clear that I didn't want to. You're the one who sat here with full knowledge that I wasn't in a good mood. And you definitely know that _I don't like you_. One night hanging out together drunk out of our minds doesn't qualify us as friends, Malfoy. Now if you want, you can leave. I won't hold it against you. And honestly, you're doing both of us a favor."

"If that's what you want…"

"Yes, that's what I want."

He stood up and nodded at her.

"Have a great life, Granger. Maybe if you'd be the person you expect other people to be once in a while, they'd actually like you."

She didn't say anything, didn't do anything. She just stared at his retreating back.

Ouch.

**---**

**11:03 p.m.**

He was mad. Furious even. How dare she? Here he was, trying to change his ways, and here comes Granger saying things as if she knew abso-fucking-lutely everything. She didn't know shit.

He was actually telling Granger the truth about him going to the park to relax. Most days, he was too busy with his construction job laying pipes and had little to no time for himself, except maybe the occasional drinking. Because he was rather new to the job, he was subject to the usual irritability of the older and much more experienced construction workers. Not used to getting yelled at, he needed a place to just be. And believe it or not, parks began to be "it" for him.

It was eleven p.m. and Draco was at a local diner, eating stale blueberry pie and coffee at a booth beside the glass window. A far cry from the caviar he used to have way back then. Life sure had taken a different turn on him. One day, everything was great. Part of the inner circle, part of the power, part of the wealthy, part of the aristocracy. But then he saw it. Saw the reality of it all, of the cause. He thought he could handle it. The screaming, the pain, the bloodbath. What was once a dream for him turned out to be a nightmare. And so he bailed. What else was he to do?

_You're a coward, Draco._

But if he didn't do it, who would? Didn't that count as bravery?  
_A traitor to your own kind._

He _was_ saving them. Couldn't they see that?

_You're still the same, Malfoy. No one will ever trust you._

He came to them, didn't he? He spilled everything. Betrayed no one. Why couldn't people see that?

A casualty of war. No one from either side wanted him now. Old family friends shunned him, his name was synonymous to scum. Draco had to to do what he had to do in order to live. Went and got himself various muggle jobs, anything to keep food on the plastic table and roof on his head.

These memories were never pleasant and he tried to push them away. But against his efforts, they still found a way to the forefront of his mind. And after what happened with Granger, he felt as if everything that had been said about him was true.

"Sue, more coffee, please?"

"Right away, babe."

The diner was dimly lit, with only a few fluorescent lights working. The floors were dirty, the walls full of graffiti and the jukebox had to be hit several times for it to work. A tune was now playing; something about holding the dude because it was hard for him to say he was sorry. Seriously, what kind of song was that?

While waiting for coffee, Draco fixed his attention on the vandalized walls.

_Judy loves Mike. 1996._ proceeded by slashing Mike's name and putting Karl, still 1996.

"Well, well, well, Judy," he muttered to himself. "You get around much."

"Here you go, love. Fresh from the pot."

"Thanks, Sue. How's business?"

The fifty-six year old waitress sighed.

"It's been slow these past few months. Ever since McDonald's set up business four blocks from here, no one's been wanting to eat our famous blueberry pie."

She looked genuinely sad.

"I bake them myself, you know. Sometimes I think people tell me it tastes good just to make me feel better."

"Hey, I'm not at McDonald's eating ridiculously greasy meat. Guys like me, those who actually _have_ taste, know that this is the place to be. Doesn't that count for something? McDonald's can shove their franchising business up their multi-million asses for all I care."

She patted his shoulder and smiled.

"Oh, you sly dog! You don't have to make up stories, you know. But thank you. You surely know how to cheer an old woman like me up."

"Hey, I meant every word."

"You're a good man, Draco. Now go drink your coffee boy, or it'll grow cold soon."

"Right away."

"Anytime doll."

With a little spring in her step, the waitress went back to work.

_You're a good man, Draco,_ he told himself. _Take that, Granger._

He just wished he knew if that was true or not.

**---**

**11:44 p.m.**

Hermione couldn't sleep that night. She refused to acknowledge the thing that bothered her the most. Or rather, the _person_ who bothered her the most.

Surely her attitude was justified, right? She had had to swallow her pride and clean out her office today. Harry and Ron were breathing down her neck yet again. All she wanted was time for some peace and quiet, and he had come and ruined it. Surely, what she did wasn't all that bad.

But then why couldn't she stop feeling guilty?

She tossed and turned in her neatly made bed, closing her eyes and willing herself to forget the day.

Nope. Still didn't work.

"Damn it!"

She stood up and abruptly had to lie back down when a rush of blood to the head made her dizzy.

"Oooh, smart move."

Taking a deep breath, she slowly brought herself to a sitting position.

"Okay. What do you want to do? Seriously. Assess the situation first, Hermione. Never be too impulsive."

Unfortunately, like everything else that had been happening, nothing was going her way. Against her very strong will, she got up, started heading towards the bathroom, looked for her toothbrush, then to her closet to get a pair of jeans and a shirt.

_And what are you going to do now? Search the whole neighborhood and hope to find him? Then what? Don't tell me you're going to apologize. Dear God wha-_

"Shut up, brain," she said aloud. "For once, just shut up."

It was very rare for her conscience to overpower her logic. And whenever it did, she knew she couldn't leave whatever her conscience wanted her to do unfinished.

So with as much resolve as she could muster, she grabbed her coat and went out the door.  
Never forgetting to lock it, of course.

**---**

**12:00 a.m.**

The digital watch on Draco's wrist gave out three beeping noises before dying out…yet again. It was midnight. Time sure was slow when you felt as fucked up as he did. All he wanted to do was curl in his unmade bed (_what's the point? You're gonna sleep in it again anyway_) and sleep till frogs evolved into vicious flying creatures spitting tar. But he couldn't. It was the whole "the mind is willing but the flesh is weak" thing, just on the flipside. He was dead tired, but his head had other things in mind.

Draco didn't hate thinking in general, but when he turned that attention to his life, he'd rather drink. And he would've right now, if only he hadn't been blacklisted at all the good bars. Damn it.

He hung around the diner until a quarter to midnight and then decided he needed some fresh air. So now here he was, walking outside the cold streets of who knows where, looking for something to do. It was a Saturday night; for sure a lot of people would be out and about. Now all he had to do was think of somewhere to go and something to do.

He started recalling places he liked going to, but none of them seemed that appealing right now. He hated to admit it, but the only place that didn't turn him off right now was the park. So off to the park it was.

But first, get a beer or three at the local grocery store.

**---**

**12: 09 a.m.**

"Why am I doing this?"

_It's not too late to turn back, you know. You can just walk away…to your cozy bed._

"No! I've got to do this. And why the hell am I talking to myself? Seriously. Stop it Hermione."

If some random person could've seen Hermione Granger now, he or she would have said she'd gone crazy. At the rear view, they'd have seen large brown hair being blown by the wind while moving left to right, and hand projections normally used by pantomimes.

Apologizing was never Hermione's strongest suit. She wasn't used to making mistakes. No. What she was used to were pats on the back, approving looks from the boss and the satisfaction of knowing that she had done something right. Rarely did she ever feel guilty. And of all times for it to pop up, it chose this opportunity. And who was responsible for it? Why, Draco Malfoy himself.

She, of all people, was aware of the irony. Malfoy was supposed to be the bad guy, not her. Never her. He was the one who made it a point to make her feel like shit all the time. He was the one who wanted her and her kind to die. He was the racist. What she did that morning was nothing compared to what he did to her and her friends. Then why the fuck was she the one feeling so low and trashy? It was unfair. But it was also unfair for Mrs. Weasley to die while healing her husband. It was unfair for Neville Longbottom to never know his parents. It was definitely unfair for the whole wizarding world to burden an eleven-year-old boy with saving everyone. That's just how life was, and there was nothing anybody could do about it.

"I need a drink."

Turning a swift right, she started heading towards Nirman's Groceries.

**---**

**12:15 a.m.**

Draco walked inside the convenience store, blinded by the sudden white lights. The place had a sort-of familiar quality to it. The kind you go to without worrying about what you looked like.

Heading straight to the sign labeled "Liquor", he grabbed a six-pack without so much as a glance to the brand. He needed alcohol and he needed it now. Screw labels.

"That would be seven nighty-five."

He took out his tattered wallet (didn't have the time and money to buy a new one) and took out a piece of crumpled paper (which was actually money) and paid for the beer. He could almost taste the bittersweet quality.

"Thanks. Don't need to put it in a bag, I'll carry it myself."

He wasn't looking as to where he was going and as a result bumped into someone who equally wasn't looking.

"Shi-"

"Watch it, will yo-"

"Oh great."

"Fuck."

**---**

**12:13 a.m.**

Nirman's Groceries was only a few minutes away from where Hermione was right now, which meant the sooner she got there, the sooner she gratified herself and the sooner she gratified herself the better she'd feel.

Because she was Hermione Granger, she created a mental list of the things she needed to buy for herself while walking towards the place…

_Tissue, deodorant, fly paper, bleach, sha-_

…and bumped into someone.

"Shi-"

"Watch it, will yo-"

"Oh great."

"Fuck."

Lo and behold, Draco Malfoy. Just the man she was looking for.

This COULD NOT be happening. What, were the gods conspiring against her and making Malfoy her cross?

_This is just too much of a coincidence._

"Stop following me, Malfoy!"

"What!"

"Sto- jus- argh! Move!"

"Make me."

"Watch me!"

"I am."

She looked at him long and hard, then decided to leave, shoving him aside.

_Great! That entire list for nothing. Fucking bastard! What the hell is he doin-_

"Granger!"

_Shit!_

She quickened her pace, exiting the grocery store in haste.

"Granger, I'm talking to you!"

"Leave me alone!"

He caught up with her at the parking lot and grabbed hold of her arm.

"What the fucking hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me! It's you with the problem!"

"Bullshit, Granger. What _is_ my problem, exactly? Tell me how bumping into each other in - " he looked at the sign post, " - in Nirman's fucking Groceries happens to be my fault? For someone as smart as you, Granger, you sure have a hard time getting it!"

He looked mad now. Being with an unreasonable woman seemed to be doing things to his blood pressure.

"I don't need this. I'm going home."

"That's it? Wow. The great and all mighty Hermione Granger wants to go home. The problem with you, Granger, is that you can dish it out but you can't take it in. Typical."

She was baffled. How dare he?

"Excuse me? Where do you get off saying things as if you know me? News flash, Malfoy, you don't."

"I know enough to say that you tell other people to be like this, to be like that, to be more like you-"

"I don-"

"Let me finish, Granger. You give these sermons to people who you think aren't good enough, aren't trying as much as you are. But you know what? They're better than you. You wanna know why? Because they're not deluding themselves about reality, unlike you."

"And so tell me, Malfoy," she ranted. "TELL ME! What is _this_ reality you're talking about? The reality that life is actually SHIT? And that everyday I have to face people who DON'T give a damn what I say? What I do? Tell me!"

She was turning red now. Malfoy had some nerve telling her shit like this.

"OH. Because it's all about YOU, Granger. I, I, I,." He mimickly pointed to himself. "Me, me, me. Woe because no one appreciates ME. Holy fuck, Granger. You call me selfish, but listen to yourself. Do you want me to grab a recorder so YOU CAN LISTEN TO YOURSELF? You think you're so pure. So HOLY that no one else can go up your pedestal and not be blinded. Well, listen up. You're _nothing_. You're no better than the rest of us. No. Fucking. Better. And THAT…is the reality I'm talking about."

Given the choice, Hermione would've rather killed herself than admit that what Draco had said actually hit kind of close to home.

The night air was chilly, creeping up their skins. But nothing compared to what was happening right now. The kind of coldness she felt was much more than skin deep.

She knew that nothing could stay the way it was. Everything was constantly changing, including herself. The hate she had for him and for everything he stood for was her driving force for the longest time. No matter how much she held on to it though, she knew it was time to let go. The lines had been blurred for a long time now; she had just refused to acknowledge it. In the reality of it all, she was long ready for something new.

"You don- I can't…."

"Save it, Granger. We're done."

She never thought she would feel shame around Draco Malfoy. Being ashamed in front of him was the number one thing that should not get to her. But that was just it. The shrinking, numbing sensation prickling her heart was now in full force. And in all actuality, she wasn't ashamed because of Malfoy. She was ashamed of herself.

She swallowed hard and willed herself to look at him. Really look at him. Too late. He was already walking away.

"I'm sorry."

Just a whisper. But that was enough to make him stop mid-step.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. You're right. About everything…I…"

Tears were welling up in her eyes now, so she looked up. And Draco, he looked away.

Not a lot of people had seen Hermione Granger cry. Sure, there was school, but that was different. When she got older, she learned that crying didn't do much, so she hid it. The only other time she cried openly was when the war finally came to an end. So much had been lost, and so much was to be gained.

"I feel like shit today. And I know it's not an excuse to be a bitch to you. I'm not normally like this, you know. I can handle pressure well most of the time. I wonder what's happening to me. Oh God, I'm going crazy. This isn't me. This shouldn't be happening!"

"Granger."

"What!"

"You're rambling."

"It's just tha-"

"Go home and get some rest."

"Don't tell me what to do."

He raised his hands, signaling defeat.

"Aaand…" he shakes his head. "We are back to square one."

"I'm calling a truce for this night, Malfoy. I'm too tired."

"Finally! You've figured out what do."

"And I thought I was the bitch here. Bitch."

**---**

**12:41 a.m.**

They were in the middle of Nirman's Groceries' parking lot when they both realized they looked stupid arguing out there. Like lovers. Oh, hell no.

"Stop eyeing my beer."

"Just one?"

"We can't drink here, Granger. It's illegal."

She gave him a funny look. "You're actually abiding by the law now?"

He shrugged. "I got nothin' to lose. What about…"

"Hey, want to go the park? It's fairly quiet there."

He smiled at her. "My thoughts exactly."

**---**

**12:46 a.m.**

They arrived at the park and propped up beside the pond.

She sat down on the grass, took one beer from him and popped it open. Never in her life would she have imagined having a beer with Draco Malfoy in the middle of the night. Well, actually, she could, she just didn't like to. And she had to admit, the feeling was kind of nice.

"So, you're not getting drunk with me again?"

"You said it yourself, Granger. One night of being drunk together doesn't make us friends."

"And I'm sticking to it. But you know…what's one night? C'mon."

She patted the space beside her, and when he didn't budge, pulled down on his coat until he finally sat down.

"Okay, okay!"

He opened a can and drank.

"Aaaah. Nothing like a good, cold beer to make you feel like your life isn't actually jackshit."

"Cheers to that."

"Here's to the night too, Granger." He raised his can of beer and nodded at her.

"God, you're cheesy."

"It's what they like about me, didn't you know?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she laid down on the ground on her back.

"Granger, think of the dirt you're going to have a hard time prying out of your hair."

"You are such a girl, Malfoy. It's fun looking at the sky. Even when there are no stars." She turned sideways, rested her head on her left arm and looked at him. "You know, my dad used to tell me stories about the constellations."

"I'm sure."

"Hey," she shoves him playfully. "At least _pretend_ to be interested. I'm not asking for much. I know how most of the time, even with Harry and Ron, people aren't really interested in what I have to say-"

"I_ wonder_ why."

She rolled her eyes and continued talking. "-but then I'm used to it now. I mean, seriously. Who else can hold a one-hour conversation about the statistics of uneven rulers without having to choke a bitch? "

She smiled at that last bit. It just occurred to her how, really, no one in _their_ right mind would want to talk about something like that. Did that mean she was crazy?

Hermione let out an unexpected laugh, which earned her an analyzing look from Draco.

"You really are something, you know that?"

"…I'll take that _as a compliment._"

"Take it however you like." Then he turned serious. "Was it hard?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "Was what hard?"

"Saying sorry."

"What do you think?"

"Yeah."

"There you go."

"Like swallowing an elephant?" He looked at her side-ways and grinned.

"Don't push it." She pursed her lips and gave her a mock stern face.

."Fine. I'll keep quiet now." He chuckled and put his index and thumb fingers on his lips, as if zipping it.

Silence enveloped them, but it was the pleasant kind.

"By the way, Granger…"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like blueberry pie?"

"Why?"

"Well, there's this place…"

So there they were, one sitting and one lying down. There was no romance to it, no passionate love story. In the grand scheme of things, they were just two people, with two different paths having crossed each other. Whether it was for a long time or just a moment, no one knew. They sure as hell didn't. Both Draco and Hermione were nowhere near to having their lives just the way they wanted it, but they'd learned life lessons here, and that was a start.

**End**


End file.
